When That Day Would Come
by ClareRoseMartin
Summary: Aethra Dawnblade, risen by Arthas as a Death Knight for his services, was an Argent Crusader in life. She knew the fate of those too weak to fight, and so shut off all feelings and memories of her time in the Crusade. But that all changed at the Battle of Light's Hope, where she happened upon an old, and rather close, friend of hers. Dedicated to those freed from Arthas's grasp!


Aethra Dawnblade closed her eyes and let the hot wind bring some warmth back to her body. It was the warmest she'd felt since she'd embraced Sarlin back at Light's Hope Chapel, just hours before. She was once a Blood Elf, once a hero of the Sin'dorei. The poor Argent champion she'd murdered had said as much.

_What have they done to you, Aethra? You were a champion of the Sin'dorei once. You can be again! Fight his control! Fight, damn you! _

Who was he, again? Oh, you know, just the Lich King.

Aethra scoffed subtly. She tried to recap the last twenty four hours, but it didn't add up. Instead, she thought briefly of the moments leading up to the Scourge's defeat. Destroying the Scarlet Crusade. Bowing before Arthas as he placed a fine helm on her head. Setting out to destroy the Argent Crusade, once and for all, in the name of the Lich King. She'd never felt so proud, so coldly, cruelly proud of what she'd become. She didn't like it. Her rebirth into Undeath would haunt her forever…but she was one of the finest. She was determined not to crumble, for she knew Arthas's punishment for weakness. A fate far, far worse than death, even Undeath. She couldn't go through it. The chill of Undeath was only just bearable.

The Battle for Light's Hope was where she hoped to perish, by the hands of who she'd served in life; the Argent Crusade.

Aethra Dawnblade was one of the guards and Scourge hunters all over the Plaguelands, allied with a fellow Blood Elf named Sarlin Starstriker, an archer in Paladin training. They were both acquainted before they even joined the Crusade, having been Farstriders in youth. Aethra was forced to leave after one of the cannibals slashed a poisoned blade across her throat, which caused her to hallucinate for days and wake up screaming from nightmares for months after. Sarlin said she left by choice, having taken watch for forty eight hours after several Farstriders were injured. She apparently collapsed on her way back to Falconwing Square and had to be carried to the inn to have her injuries seen to and put to bed. Nobody was sure if she was unconscious or asleep. She laughed at that point, saying she wasn't even sure herself. The two ex-Farstriders were reunited years later, this time in allegiance to the Argent Crusade. But it was short-lived, as Aethra fell to the Scourge only a few months later. She pushed her death to the back of her mind, instead focusing on her rebirth.

She felt an agonizing pain crushing her mind and heart, a cold penetrating far deeper than her skin. She wanted to scream, but her throat was so dry, she could hardly breathe, let alone make a sound. It all faded through slowly, then suddenly, stopped altogether, and she found herself standing in front of a nervous-looking, tired woman and a tall, strong but wounded looking man. They both seemed to be judging her, as though waiting for something extraordinary to happen, a legendary, grateful speech pouring out of her lips, a demonstration of her strength. But, as Arthas's voice invaded her mind, calling her to be his champion, instead of feeling scared, hurt or elated, she simply felt empty. And perhaps it was for the best. If she felt nothing, maybe this'd all be over soon. Maybe letting Arthas control her thoughts would mean her death would occur sooner, because being a Death Knight was the last thing she'd ever want. She served Tirion in life, but in Death, she had no choice but to serve what she'd formerly set out to destroy, and had gut feeling she'd be asked to destroy the Argent Crusade in death. Yes, feeling completely lightweight and empty was the best she could hope for. So she simply said "Destiny walks its own path. I am yours now,"

The lightweight feeling continued throughout. She did as the Lich King instructed, not reluctantly, not willingly, feeling no pain, remorse or thrill whenever she ended another life or tore another soldier out of his rest. Throughout nearly every battle she fought and won, all she heard was the rasping of her own breath against the madness threatening to take her over, all she saw was darkness stretched out in front of her, like an eternal, black Nether, and all she felt was a deadening cold, the only feeling she couldn't ignore. It passed through her skin and into her blood, into her heart, her bones, her mind…it never left her…never.

The first command that triggered emotion was the death of Lady Eonys of the Argent Dawn. Eonys had known Aethra as a child, took care of her when her parents were substituting for the fallen Farstriders outside Fairbreeze or Falconwing. Eonys forced her to recall the events of life, and it all came back to her. She was just a little child, cradled in Eonys's arms, sobbing into green silk robe. She'd just awoken from a nightmare, a horrifying vision of her parents being taken by the Scourge, devoured by the cannibals…she shuddered even today just thinking about it. Eonys rocked her and made soft, soothing sounds, then laid her back into the bed and fed her bread smothered in hot honey and a glass of warm milk, tangy with the same sweetness as the syrup on her bread. Aethra asked her if her parents were still alright, and she promised that they were. She sat on Aethra's bed and held her hand until she went back to sleep. When she awoke screaming again, Eonys decided to slip into the bed with her and spend the night, as it was obvious she was too afraid to sleep alone. She recalled the sweet smell of honey and flowers, the soft feel of Eonys's hair against her cheek, the sudden security that fell over her.

And now this…

_There…there's no more time left for me. I'm done for. Finish me off Aethra. Do it or they'll kill us both. Aethra…remember Silvermoon. This world is worth saving…do it, Aethra! Put me out of my misery! _

And, for the first time since her rebirth into Undeath, she felt something…she wasn't sure what it was, but it dug into her heart like a dagger. As her emblazoned blade passed through Eonys's heart, as she watched the poor Elf sink to the ground clutching the wound that ended her life and as she turned around to face the other cold, battered prisoners in the shack, she knew what the feeling was called; remorse.

_Stop it! Stop, dammit! _She thought to herself. _Let it go. Let it all go. You're a Death Knight. You do not feel. You do not know what it is to feel remorse. _

And so the emotions cut off again. She battled on, eventually destroying the Scarlet Crusade after she revealed to Orbaz Bloodbane the Crimson Dawn, and reporting back to the Lich King to notify him of her success. As she knelt down and allowed him to place a helm on her head, the emotions came back again, and this time she felt pride. But, like her remorse, it was short lived, and was apparently always meant to be, as the Lich King suddenly ordered a battle for the Chapel of Light's Hope, where Argent reinforcements would be arriving shortly.

Aethra bleakly readied herself for battle, fixing up her armour and polishing her blade. She gazed into the black Nether while all this occurred, to avoid emotion. But, deep down, she had to accept that it wasn't going to be easy. She'd served the Argents, became a trusted guard and Scourge hunter. She could only hope that Tirion wasn't there…but Tirion she could bear. Sarlin…her best friend and hunting partner…that Blood Elf only had to show her face and all feeling would come flooding back…and this time, there'd be no return to the dark, cold world she'd confined herself to with Undead shackles. Sarlin, while young and weak, knew what war was. She'd spent forty eight hours on watch as a Farstrider, seen a deadly battle in Ashenvale that killed her parents and left a deep scar running down her face, even snuck out of her home in Tranquillien as a child to fight the Scourge, in hopes of joining the Farstriders when she was older…and now she was beginning to master the powers of the Light. Sarlin would undo all those torturous months of imprisonment in a vast land of nothing but cold and shallow breaths…she'd either save Aethra or kill her. Either way, it didn't matter. The chances of Sarlin arriving, judging by Aethra's luck, were high. But there would be many Crusaders and many Death Knights. Perhaps she'd been hidden in the crowd.

Aethra tiredly mounted her horse and awaited Darion Mograine's orders. The Light was becoming rather obvious. It didn't bring her warmth, as it did in life, but it brought an end to the shadows she'd shackled herself to. She was beginning to become aware of her tiredness, suddenly wanting nothing more than to fall asleep…a memory flashed through her mind, one of her falling, and someone catching her, someone with strong but warm arms, trying to stem a bloody wound in her chest…she shook her head and focused.

The battle began and progressed like any other. She swiped, they fell and then she moved on to the next soldier, and the next and the next and the next…it was taking a long time, even for her. She was beginning to question the Scourge's chances in this battle. The forces of the Light were few, but the Light itself wasn't to be meddled with. She'd just moved onto a girl that looked distinctly like a Blood Elf, and automatically feared the worst. Fear. Fear was coming back.

Without hesitation, she lifted her blade and was about to bring it down, hoping to avoid eye-contact, when the girl lifted her shield and blocked with a very familiar technique. She swiped again and the girl instead blocked her with her sword, with such force that both blades clattered to the ground. She looked up, sweat coating her face, running down a long, deep scar, from her left eye to the bottom of her lip…

"Aethra…" she whispered, removing her helmet that coated her long, black hair. It had a white streak framing the front left-hand side. All natural.

Aethra already knew it was Sarlin. The eyes were all too familiar, as cold as ice itself. Prey could bow before her if she wanted it to with her deathly gaze.

Hesitating, she removed her own prized helmet, and let it clatter to the ground, which was frozen beneath her feet. Sarlin was close to tears, Aethra could sense, and she let her shield fall. She put her hand on Aethra's left cheek and, just as she'd predicted, everything came flooding back.

She was taken back to the time Sarlin first joined the Argent Crusade. She'd just been speaking to Tirion and was now taking her first lessons. Aethra was thrilled to see her, but taken aback by how nervous and pale she looked. When Sarlin had finished, she sat moodily by herself, stroking her left arm and wincing occasionally.

Aethra danced over happily, pulling her straight blonde hair out of its ponytail.

"Well, aren't we the celebrity!" she said cheerfully.

Sarlin looked up and smiled. "Aethra! It's good to see you, old friend!"

"And you…Sarlinia," Aethra said craftily.

Sarlin glared. "Never call me that again,"

Aethra giggled. Sarlin was never very open about her full first name. Aethra could never figure out why. It seemed basic enough.

"Tell me, Sarlin Grace, what with the audience with the Highlord?"

Sarlin sighed. "Oh, you know me. I just do as I'm told. It _always _gets me noticed,"

"Oh, and that bothers you? Do you know how much the others would kill for what you're so against?" Aethra said.

"Well, not many personal audiences in the past have gone great. In fact, I came here from Tirisfal Glades after a conversation with 'Her Royal Highness,'" Sarlin said moodily.

Aethra shook her head, confused. "What…what happened? She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Sarlin sighed again. "I don't think she meant it, but somehow…"

She raised the sleeve on her left arm, revealing three long, deep looking gashes zigzagging up her arm. Aethra winced.

"She did that to you? Sylvanas?" she asked, astonished.

Sarlin nodded. "Those Scarlet Crusaders, the ones at the Scarlet Watch, just outside Brill and Lordaeron. I think they were sent in from the Plaguelands. I was sent to kill them and…quite frankly, never got 'round' to it. Needless bloodshed, if you ask me. She wasn't happy. She hates humans, all humans. So she, like Tirion, requested a personal audience. And it didn't go very well. She just jumped out. I don't think she even knew what she was doing…she looked remorseful after,"

Aethra shook her head. "I was never happy serving the Horde either, especially the 'Banshee Queen'," she said the name with distaste. "I made my own way here. I was just looking around at first…stealing, but…somehow the Argent Crusade welcomed me,"

Sarlin smiled. "I was offered a place back at the Bulwark. Want to hear the story?"

Aethra scoffed. "Enlighten me, Starstriker,"

Sarlin took a deep breath, which was a sure sign that she'd be talking for a while.

"I was in Tirisfal, doing the bidding of the Forsaken. I tried to shut everything out, but…well. You know what it's like killing someone who doesn't need to die. They never leave…not really. I was at the Bulwark at the time, like I said. I always hated that place. It's so close to a nest of spiders. It kept the money rolling in, though. I was running low for a long time after I left the Farstriders. Not many of them took it well, and most stopped buying what I hunted. It wasn't ideal, but it kept me from going hungry. Anyway, there were Argent Crusaders camped in the Bulwark, for whatever reason. Maybe to keep an eye on the Forsaken. They could sense my…unhappiness, I guess. The orc there spoke to me, said he wasn't happy with what the Forsaken were forcing me to do, saw that I was constantly afraid in their presence, thought I'd be better off with the Argent Crusade. They've succeeded in tasks that the Alliance and Horde couldn't because of the war. He said…he said that they had no enemy but the Scourge. And traitors, of course, but that goes without saying. He suggested I join them and avoid this needless life taking. I realized I needed to start fresh somewhere new, where these damn wounds would heal faster. So, I did. And…and here I am," she finished.

Aethra smiled sympathetically. "Does it remind you of…you know, the watch?"

Sarlin studied the fingernails on her right hand. "Yeah, kind of. But I never knew when I was coming off. It was so tiring. Too tiring,"

"Nice way to change your memories of home. What were you like when you were younger?"

Sarlin pondered. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything from my childhood. I remember Lydia Starstriker finding me, and nothing before that,"

Aethra remembered asking Sarlin something similar when they were guarding the borders of Falconwing Square together, how a Night Elf called Lydia found Sarlin dying in the Eversong Woods, and how she'd taken her in and brought her back to full health and strength. Sarlin said she didn't remember anything from her past or even know what her name was before Lydia found her. She also added that she didn't care. "Lydia gave up everything she had for me. Sarlinia Grace Starstriker is my name now. Just don't ever say 'Sarlinia'," she'd said.

Aethra nodded. "Well, you're here now. Made any new friends yet, Starstriker?"

Sarlin smiled. "Only Tirion," she said craftily.

Aethra laughed. "Show off. Come on. Let me give you a grand tour,"

Her mind wandered to another day, after Sarlin was beginning to master the arts of a Paladin. They were both given an hour off, after Aethra contracted some kind of infection from one of the carrion beasts. Sarlin had successfully cleansed it, but it was going to take a little time for Aethra to recover.

"So…" Sarlin said, in a light attempt to start a conversation. "What's to discuss?"

"Um...we haven't talked combat yet," Aethra replied. "Tell me, how is it you're so skilled with a bow?"

Sarlin smiled. "Huh. I've been playing with those as far back as I can remember. Even when Lydia found me, there was a shattered bow beside me. So she said, anyway. It's not even about the bow. It's the hunt that matters. How much do you need your prey? How long can you stand to wait for prey to come by? How steady is your hand? How sure are you that the arrow will find its mark? Because the hunter guides the arrow, and the hunter delivers the final blow. Always. It's the inspiration for archers. I lived for hunting, literally. The money I got for my game, plus whatever I could cook at home, kept me alive. If I wasn't accurate with the bow, then I wouldn't be here today," she filled her lungs again, and breathed out. "I needed that game, and that's how I managed to master the bow,"

Aethra nodded. "It's all about what the weapon brings you, huh? I guess that's why most fight these days. It keeps the money rolling in. Of course, you could just steal it and avoid bloodshed…" she said.

Sarlin investigated the dust on the arrow she was holding. "Lavish your tales upon me, then,"

"Well," Aethra started. "I'm one with the shadows. I become the air and the earth, light and hidden, unseen, unheard…unknown. I'm not like you, Sarlin. I don't wait for my prey. I hunt it, I chase it, and my blade finds its throat before it can even blink twice…if I ever needed to. I used to be a grand assassin when my bones became prominent. I'd kill anything for a bit of food, but it never made me…happy. Of course it didn't. I'd buy a loaf of bread, eat it, then know I'd have to get back out in the open and kill someone again. In the end, I turned to thievery. It felt better, but…"

Sarlin sighed. "Let me guess,"

"Yeah. I got caught," Aethra concluded.

"And how did that pan out?" Sarlin asked.

Aethra laughed. "I ran. I didn't stop for about an hour. Somehow I ended up in the Plaguelands. That's kind of how I got to the Argent Crusade,"

Sarlin twisted a strand of her long, black hair with the arrow. "Destiny walks its own path, Aethra. You must have been meant for this,"

Aethra scoffed. "I'm an outlaw, Sarlin. Actually, probably not. It was just a bit of food, and I was malnourished then, anyway. I doubt they'd remember me for it. But still…everyone here is skilled in the arts of combat. I'm skilled in the arts of stealth. Not very honourable…"

"You don't have to be. You can fight, and that's all that matters. And anyway, this isn't bloodshed. Those mindless Scourge fiends out there…they're just begging to die. What do you feel when you kill them? Compared to a killing a soldier, I mean?" Sarlin asked.

Aethra thought of the Scourge, the shredded skin that occasionally coated their bones, the vacant, mindless slashing of blades, cursed eternally by the Lich King…and how they once were humans, innocent children freely roaming the paths that are so cruelly tainted today, only to be born into eternal suffering. She then thought of the soldiers she'd killed, the men and women who had family and children back home, who would be greatly missed by the friends they fought alongside, whose sons and daughters desperately cling to their faded belongings, begging their mother or father to come home, unable to accept they never would…

"I feel like I'm doing them a favour. That I'm saving them…that it's what they're asking for. Compared to a soldier, who has something worth living for," Aethra replied.

Sarlin nodded. "Which makes you more of a hero than most,"

Aethra smiled shyly. She wasn't used to compliments like this. "Oh, Sarlin. I used to be a thief. But…there's some sense to what you say,"

Sarlin slipped the arrow back into her quiver and unsheathed the dagger at her waist. She handed it casually to Aethra. "For being a loyal friend, and…trusty rogue," she said.

Aethra looked at the dagger. A large, red jewel glowed in the handle. The edge was sharp and rugged and shone a silvery-blue kind of colour. This was the first gift Aethra had been given since she was a child. It felt so pleasantly cool between her golden fingers. She felt her eyes stinging, but forced herself not to cry. "Thank you," she whispered.

Sarlin playfully punched her shoulder. "So, Mistress of the Shadows. How do you feel? Better?"

Aethra nodded. "Yeah. Shall we get back out there?"

Sarlin grinned. "Let's" she said.

Aethra noted that overtime, she and Sarlin only became closer, and as Sarlin began to master the ways of a Paladin, Aethra became more skilled in the battlefield. As Sarlin's hand spread warmth from her cheek to the rest of her body, Aethra was taken back to her final moments with Sarlin…as well as the final moments of her life.

The Hold of Acherus wasn't long hovering over the Plaguelands, particularly around the chapel of Light's Hope. Sarlin and Aethra, along with Larian and Andalon, the married Kal'dorei hunters, were sent to search for a group of Argent soldiers who had apparently disappeared after they had been asked to investigate the looming shadow. The answer wasn't long found out. Larian had casually mentioned the sudden chill, when a large, silent monster loomed over them. Aethra couldn't think of the name, but she'd seen those back in Quel'Thalas…in Deatholme, she recalled. They'd walked straight into an ambush.

Larian and Andalon managed to take down a few of the Death Knights, giving Sarlin and Aethra a chance to escape.

"No," Sarlin said. "Tell me why we should leave you here to die,"

"You need to get back and spread the word!" gasped Larian, who was now clutching a bloody wound in her chest. "Otherwise we'll all die,"

"She's right," said Andalon gravely. "Not all of us are going to get out of this alive. Larian and I…we'll still have each other. You need to let the Argents know what's happening. Now, run!"

"Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten, heroes. Thank you," Sarlin said sadly, before grabbing Aethra's hand and running.

Aethra was still in shock. She wasn't expecting the ambush, but she did expect to return back to one of the Holds, with Larian and Andalon. Now they were going to die, and she'd done nothing to save them…nothing but run. But somebody had to make it, though, didn't they? Somebody had to get word to Tirion Fordring at least. And only Aethra and Sarlin had managed to get out of there alive. Larian and Andalon had each other. They'd die together, as close in death as they were in life…they'd been like parents to her…

Sarlin was still guiding her hand, obviously unaware of the Death Knight behind the tree in front of them. She yelled and jumped back, fumbling for her blade, but Aethra knew that by the time she reached it, she'd be gone.

What now? Sarlin had been through so much. She didn't even remember her past. She still had so much to avenge, so much to live for, much more than Aethra did. Aethra had thought of the Argent Crusade as her family, but Sarlin was the only friend she ever had. The others had tried to bond with her, but she'd been so difficult, making no effort to blend, standing on and off watch and keeping up a conversation when needed…but Sarlin was the only one she could be herself around. And Sarlin adored each and every one of them. They loved her.

She thought of Sarlin's power, her prowess in the hunt, her eyes so cold she could coax her prey into walking towards the very arrow that would end its life. Now, as she was beginning to master the Light, she would only get stronger. She thought of the two days Sarlin had stood on watch for the fallen Farstriders without sleeping or even drinking water. She'd even freed a human from a Forsaken prison, which risked nearly everything she had. Aethra compared herself with her best friend, and knew that nothing added up. Aethra was an ex-thief, current Crusader. But Sarlin was so much more, and the Crusade had more use for her kind. The Crusade would get over Aethra's death overtime. But Sarlin's…not so soon.

Aethra had made her decision.

_I'll be forgotten by the time this is all over, and it'd be best if it stays that way, _she thought before, at last, she jumped in front of Sarlin and took the cold blade through the heart.

For a moment, all she felt was pain. It ran through her body like an icy wyrm, until it reached the tip of her toes. She was sure she heard Sarlin scream her name, but it was hard to tell. The worst of the pain didn't last long, thankfully, and as Sarlin hoisted her half off the ground, she felt nothing but sudden, pleasant warmth. At first she couldn't comprehend it, then she figured it must have been the heat radiating off Sarlin's body, between the sweating and the hot leather she was wearing.

Aethra let her head fall back and Sarlin sat down, supporting Aethra's shoulder, running her thumb across it. Aethra grabbed Sarlin's wrist and winced. "You need to get out of here, Sarlin. Spread the word," she gasped.

Sarlin was sobbing, gripping Aethra's wrist and bending her head down. If Sarlin died, they'd be finished, just like Larian and Andalon, the past Crusaders…just like her.

"Sarlin, listen!" Aethra said, as loudly as she could. "There's still time. You can make it. Run as fast as you can, find a way to get word to Tirion and end this!"

Sarlin consoled herself. "Okay. I will, I promise," she said in a strained voice. "But now…"

Aethra smiled. "Now…stay here…with me,"

She couldn't bear the thought of dying alone. It wouldn't be long, anyway. She could feel her life slowly draining from her, and the clouds she could see as well as the occasional fuzz of Sarlin's curly hair, were distorting. The pain was slowly subsiding.

"They'll be forever grateful for this, you know," Sarlin whispered. "You won't soon be forgotten,"

Aethra would prefer it if she was forgotten, so the grieving wouldn't last. But Sarlin would be suffering the longest, so she simply smiled and said "Thank you. I've never known…" but she was growing weak and was unable to finish the sentence.

Sarlin seemed to sense Aethra's death drifting closer and clasped her hand tighter, bringing her head down so her hair brushed off Aethra's forehead. The white strands of the front tickled Aethra's ear. With her free hand, she gently touched Sarlin's face, savouring the last of her warmth. She'd been like a sister to her, helped her in more ways than could be put into words. She just hoped that Sarlin would make it back in time.

"Aethra…" Sarlin whispered.

"Shh," Aethra shushed, knowing that her time was only growing shorter. "It's been an honour to fight alongside you, Sarlin and…and you've given me more than I could possibly ask for. You're the closest I've ever had to family…" she paused, finding that talking was actually taking her breath away, so she had to gulp in air between words. "The…the dagger you gave me…would be of no…no use to me…now. Take it…to another recruit…someone who needs it," she said, knowing that Sarlin would take the sheathed blade from her belt after she died.

Sarlin nodded, stroking Aethra's cold fingers with her thumb.

"It'll be alright. Get yourself…get yourself home and…by the fire. Let them know…what a hero…you truly are…you're the best friend I've ever had, Sarlin. Don't…worry about me. I'll be somewhere…new. Somewhere…" she paused, breathing in for the last time. "…safe…" she breathed out her final breath of warm air and went still in Sarlin's arms.

She blinked and found herself back on the battlefield. Sarlin was staring at her, trembling. How could she have shut off every feeling she ever had and slain thousands of lives that weren't worth taking? How did she stand to murder Eolys, the woman who held her during dark and frightful nights at home, and fade back into a dark storm of emptiness after? How could Sarlin's face have only crossed her mind once, right before the battle that could have possibly ended her life, and countless others?

Just as Darion Mograine kneeled in defeat before Tirion, Aethra stared right into Sarlin's cold, unforgiving eyes, and threw her arms round her, cherishing the warmth that Arthas had taken from her, the warmth that soothed her to death, the warmth she'd latched onto in her last mortal moments. All she could say was "I'm sorry…" but Sarlin cut her off by pulling back. She squeezed Aethra's hands and nodded, a hint of a smile playing on the edges of her mouth.

"Kneel…" she whispered.

Aethra was weak and weary anyway. All those months of determination to feel nothing had drained her, physically and mentally. When she eventually dropped to her knees, she zoned out what was happening in front of her, focusing now on simply staying conscious. Time passed and her vision began to fail her. She was supported only by the Argent Crusader whose arm clasped her shoulder almost protectively, except the axe held to her throat made her decide against it. Just as long as he didn't let go, they'd all presume she was awake. As well as her emotions, the agony that she was in became noticeable, and she began to shiver and whisper softly under her breath.

"Finish it…" she gasped. "Please, just…finish it…"

She closed her eyes, trying to exit reality again, but only turning towards an even darker Nether than the one she'd created to escape, where she felt all torture and agony. She was aware of Sarlin screaming something, though it was intelligible, of Darion yelling "TIRION!" and of Tirion yelling "ARTHAS!" but the whole time, she was focusing on staying awake, where she was. She felt Arthas's presence, she had somehow picked up Tirion's words, that they had been betrayed and sent to their death, that her helm meant nothing, that she'd only caused the needless bloodshed she had set out to finish. She wished one of them would kill her. Even if it meant a darker hereafter, to die at the hands of the Light was far more beneficial than to die at the hands of her maker in Undeath.

"Rise, Darion, and listen…" she heard Tirion say.

The Argent Crusader's grip had loosened and the axe was no longer at her throat. She watched Sarlin limp over to her, leaning on a long mace. Judging by her wince, she'd injured something in her leg and seemed relieved when she dropped beside Aethra. They listened to Darion and Tirion's conversation, and the whole time, Sarlin kept her hands on each of Aethra's shoulders, as though protecting her from the world and its dangers. A sister's protective embrace. Then Sarlin left. She whispered to Aethra "Meet me in the Valley of Strength," before two Crusaders helped her limp back to the Chapel.

So, that was that. Darion had suggested Aethra return to the Horde and gain back her allegiance and perhaps think of enrolling in the Knights of the Ebon Blade later. So Aethra returned to Orgrimmar where Thrall, the great Warchief of the Horde, accepted Tirion's letter and fondly welcomed her back, even adding "Your bravery is as strong as the tides in winter, Aethra. Perhaps it shall be you who shall bring Arthas to justice. For the Horde,"

So now, Aethra tasted the hot hair of Durotar for the first time since she stole a whole roasted boar from one of the cooks in the Drag. It was beautiful, but so tainted by her armour. The dead, weighted plate was cold and heavy on her shoulders and back. She had no sooner stepped outside Grommash Hold when Sarlin appeared, dressed in fine leather, with her black hair pulled back. The white streak had escaped the blue ribbon's bonds, however, and hung loosely around her face. She carried a medium-sized satchel on one arm.

First she embraced Aethra, which was the first time they had hugged properly since Sarlin held her in her arms as she died. She smelled of sweat, grass and a strange, perfumed scent. Aethra had the fortune to come across an atriss once, the beautiful red flowers that gave off a raspberry scent. It was somewhat similar to the perfume.

Sarlin then took Aethra's hand and lead her through Orgrimmar. She tried to ignore the stares she got from the orcs. One child from the orphanage piped up and said "You look rather sick. Do you want to sit down and drink some water?"

Aethra was too afraid to speak, for she knew the child would recoil at the distortion of her voice, so she squeezed Sarlin's hand and staggered, feigning ill. It wasn't difficult.

"She just needs to get some hunting done," Sarlin smiled.

They eventually reached Durotar without too much hassle. Sarlin handed Aethra the bag and winked. "All for you,"

Aethra opened it to find a nice leather armour set, deep purple and studded with red gems, with pauldrons, bracers, gloves and a (cofine, red cape with the Icon of the Blood engraved in the centre.

"It belonged to Halis. You know, Lydia's husband. My father, if you will. I figured you'd like it. Might remind you of the watch a little bit, the times you used to enjoy," Sarlin said.

"Thank you," Aethra whispered hoarsely.

She changed quickly into the leather, not even bothering to hide herself. She knew, at this stage, Sarlin wouldn't care.

"Hold onto the plate. It might be worth something to those enchanters," Sarlin pointed out.

Aethra sat down weakly, not paying any attention to the plate. The leather felt warmer but she'd never felt so angry, so miserable, furious at what she'd become. It wasn't her fault, and she knew, but the rage was still in her heart.

"You know the Argent Crusade will take you back," Sarlin said.

Aethra stared at her. Even now, it wasn't easy holding eye contact with her. "What?"

"I've spoken to Tirion. If you ever need a place to go…the Crusade was always your home. And it still is,"

Aethra sighed. "No, Sarlin. It's not. I don't belong here. Look at what's he's done to me. I'm a monster,"

"No!" Sarlin said. "Aethra, you're not a monster. You died, and you were brought back. What could you possibly have done?" Sarlin paused, as though waiting for an answer. "Listen, Aethra. You're not a Scourge fiend. You're a Death Knight. You're not a servant of Arthas, you're a soldier of the Horde. You're not a champion of the Light, but you can still serve its cause,"

Aethra stared blankly ahead. "That day will come, Sarlin. If Arthas is to fall, I can assure you, I will have a say in it. And if Tirion welcomes me back to the Argent Crusade, even after my becoming of those he wants purged from the surface of Azeroth, I gladly will return. One day. But…" she paused, and during her slight blackout in the last phases of the battle, she remembered one particular sentence, said twice, passed down father to son. "…that day is not today,"

Sarlin nodded, running her fingers softly across the warm sand. "I'll always be here for you, Aethra. Please, say you still feel for us,"

"Sarlin," Aethra said quickly. "I will not forget what you have done for me. I never will. Before I died, I thought of you as a friend. But you…you could have killed me back there, and I would easily have killed you had you not raised that shield in your defence. You could have ended this, and yet you did not. Why?"

Sarlin closed her eyes and took Aethra's hand. "Until we can cure you of the Plague, you can't die. Otherwise your soul shall never rest. Here, you are free. You are your own. And you have me. Sisters in life, sisters in death,"

Aethra nodded, feeling a wave of tiredness take over. She curled up on the sand, running her fingers across it for warmth. Sarlin said nothing, but Aethra reached for her hand again. She didn't want to lose Sarlin, who was all she had left. She never wanted to leave her side. But time could change her feelings.

"Sarlin, I was not the first to fall to the Lich King," she said, feeling herself slip away. "I will not be the last,"

She paused, then whispered three gentle words; "Stay with me,"

She then slept, and rather peacefully, for the first time since she'd died. She still hadn't learned of the fates of Larian and Andalon, or of the rest of the Argent Dawn prisoners in the shack in which she murdered Lady Eonys. When the Lich King struck, she simply knew she'd be there.

But when would that day come?


End file.
